Ramblings of a Fruitless Tale
by Ruler of Elysium
Summary: "While most may protest of the way we deal with our depression, this is how we choose to cope. Heck, this is the only way we can cope. This is the only thing we can do to prevent us from spontaneously combusting."Harry and Blaise deal with unrequited love


Ramblings of a Fruitless Tale

A/N: My first ever Harry Potter fic, and first ever Harry/Draco. :)

Also, I credit the use of the word 'domenaye' to the fanfic, Midnight Sun.

Read and Review please, and tell me if you want anyone else's POV written.

The moment Lucius' cane came into contact with your chest, your reaction was subdued, hidden. Because the fact he tortured you for hours to follow in his footsteps, to mould you in his image, like his fathers did before him. The never ending crop cycle of the Malfoy family. You knew well enough to ignore the inflaming pain in your heart and the thirst you had to impress your father. Your eyes travelled up and met with mine as I peered into the mercury depths, and … understood.

I could understand you better than everybody else thought. We had in common numerous things, like the fact we both were similar in our childhoods, having both our families hate us. I wondered for so long how you dealt with the hurt, the pain and the wetness behind the orbs that threaten to fall every time you are taunted about something that was either special or close to your heart.

There are a lot of things I can say I regret in my life. Not taking your offer of friendship upon the Hogwart's Express, for one. There's also the regret when I look back on once upon a time the Sorting Hay wanted to place me in Slytherin. If only I had not argued, I would not be in this situation. The Sorting Hat would've never placed me in the very hell hole I reside in now. The Gryffindors, a hell hole? You would never believe that I would use those words in a sentence together, but times change Draco, I've changed. They lie about loyalty being one of the main attributes of the sacred house of Godric Gryffindor. If they were so loyal, why would they discriminate against me for simply being domenaye?

I understand now why Snape is the way he is towards the rival houses. He protects the Slytherins, perhaps too vigorously to be deemed appropriate, but if he doesn't look out for the Slytherins no one will. Slytherin is a house about survival, protection and preservation. You all take care of each other. You are the family you all never had. It is the common stereotype to believe that all the dark wizards and witches are spawn of the the doors of Salazar Slytherin. It is also stereotype to think that every single Slytherin is a Death Eater, every Slytherin is evil, every Slytherin is a Pureblood. You may argue the latter fact, but I know you know the truth Draconis. Like every other house Slytherin houses Half-Bloods and although rare, some Muggle-borns. The fact is only covered up since the majority of them claim to be Pure, but you of all people should know that is not the truth.

I know that I do not deserve to be writing about you so much after everything I've made you choose. The approval of your parents should always come before anything, as I know how much you strive for it. I would be in the exact same position if my parents were alive. I would want them to be proud of me, to watch me whilst I'm playing Quidditch, to buy my presents at Christmas and a new racing broom in appreciation. You would smirk at the lines I've previously written, reprimanding me for gloating and crying about how unfair my life is, but after it's all said and done, the hero is, in truth a selfish bastard (though I can assure you my parents were both married when I was born).

People would scream about how I love the attention I get, how I yearn for people to care. I don't. You understand this fact most better than others, the fact that I only happen to be the so-called hero due to the fact my parents died on Halloween. You would look in the above paragraph, smiling wryly about how I referred myself to being a hero. I don't enjoy being the hero in this world. I do not like being famous for my mother sacrificing her life for me. It's probably happened numerous times in the history of existence, yet mine sticks in their heads. Why me Draco?

Draco, my gorgeous Draco. You laugh at my in the Great Hall, you laughter cutting through the tension formed as the rest are still shell shocked at the recent events that have unfolded. The sound I will never tire of, no matter what context it is used. I do not know what I must to achieve your love in return, everything I can give you would be everything you can not take. You speak about how you hate me, but all I can do is to clamp my mouth shut, forcing myself to keep in the secret that I'm in love with you. You should keep in mind that hate is not the opposite to love, that it is indifference. Sure, we've called a truce now. Sure we're even friends. But you won't feel anything towards me romantically, because how can you?

You're Draco Lucius Malfoy. Son of Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort's Right Hand Man. I'm Harry James Potter. Voldemort's nemesis. Things like these do not happen to people like us.

I wonder sometimes if you had any sort of inkling about how I feel towards you, but the blatant obliviousness and concentration on the opposite sex say you do not. It has taken all of me not to pin you against the wall and kiss the living daylights out of your pretty blond head, despite being in Potions. I think the attraction becomes it's worst in the Potions classroom, our close proximity warrants me a boner or two. I ponder if you understand why I do not go a fetch the potions when we are partners. I know my infatuation with you is ridiculous. For this reason, it must go with me to the grave.

It was by accident, of course, that the Gryffindors found out about my preference. If I should have possess a kill list, I would put Colin Creevey on there at number one, screw Voldemort. Does the boy know what he's done? By taking photographs of me and Theo, he not only caused my excommunication with the Gryffindors, but caused Nott's family to disown him and kill him. All for a snog under the mistletoe. I shall be eternally grateful that I remembered to ward my journal that fateful day. I shall also be grateful to Snape, since he took me in and allowed me to reside in the Snake's Pit for the rest of the year. I know it was probably only of your insistence, but in the end he agreed. Slytherin did not have to accept me. But they did. All because of you.

During the Tri-Wizard Tournament, you all banded together; Pansy, Blaise, Daphne, Vincent, Gregory helping me with the learning of spells and important charms that would futher me through the competition, whilst the my former house wore the Potter Stinks badges with pride that my former best friend Hermione created. Throughout the Second Task, I was genuinely fearful for my life and t wasn't that I had anything special to live for. I was used to my life being in danger, but I wasn't used to feeling like this. Feeling like I would never be able to tell you I was in love with you, saying what truly mattered before my obvious demise. Now, I see no chance of that occurring.

The events of the Third Task would be one of those things you would have recurring nightmares about for the rest of your existence. Cedric Diggory died. Voldemort came back from the dead. I knew when your hard, calculating stare found me, nothing would be the same. Nothing, _could_. Our friendship was not appropriate. We were not to be on amicable terms. After all you were the Death Eater in training, and I? I was the fucking Boy-Who-Lived.

When I visit Padfoot throughout the Summer at Grimmauld Place, you accompany me despite relations with your distant cousin would not be described as good. I meet with the Order of the Phoenix, and to my surprise and shock you discuss the possibility of joining the side of the Light as a spy. I'd have to say I never in a million years, would have believed you would betray your father's want.

Nothing changes much the next year, though the ReSorting of the fifth years, comes as a shock. Officially now I have become a Slytherin. To say many are horrified would be an understatement. You would think me living in the Slytherin for the most of fourth year would accustom them to accept the fact of my wearing green and silver, eating with Slytherins, and being on friendly terms with Slytherins. But alas, your attention is not fully focused on me anymore, not in the romantic sense at the very least. You seemed to have acquired a little Greengrass for you girlfriend, and the possibility of me hating her more than I hate Creevey becomes more real than ever. I am not the only one who disapproves of the match. Pansy Parkinson is one of the many heartbroken girls of Hogwarts when the news gets out.

I see you hold her, like I want you to do me. I see you smile, one that I want to be directed at me. Is Silently I die every time I see you kiss her, whisper sweet nothings in her small pointy ears. I love you. I always have. That is part of the reason why I collect myself from letting myself cry all these times, from stopping myself cursing Astoria. Is it possible to love someone this much? It is during these torturous times for me, I end up discovering the Room of Requirement.

The Room becomes my sole confidant, and it seems to understand how broken I have become due to my feelings for you. Later on, Blaise becomes my second. He understands. He has been in love with Seamus Finnegan for as long as I can recall, with the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry getting in the way of any possible relationship. He sits with me in the Room of Requirement, and we drown our sorrows together, night after night. He does not know it you I love but he does not press, understanding.

We fuck. Blaise and I. Zabini and Potter. While most may protest of the way we deal with our depression, this is how we choose to cope. Heck, this the only way we _can_ cope. This is the only thing we can do to prevent us from spontaneously combusting. It is during one time I let my facade slip, I shout your name during the throes of passion with Blaise. I scream yours, he screams Finnegans and when we are done we avert our gazes. It is odd to lose something considered something as precious as your virginity to someone who you do not love or does not love you.


End file.
